In this moment you’re walking for the first time, you’re just over 2 years old, and I can’t help but cry. This is one of the best moments in my life. I knew deep down the day would come, but to be honest there where times when I had serious doubts

In this moment you are amazing me with how much you know, how much you see.

In this moment I’m confused. I have no idea what is happening. It’s only the second day of kindergarten. Aren’t you just being a typical kid? Don’t they usually wait a few weeks before pulling you aside?

In this moment I’m frantic. Can anyone help? God please help!

In this moment I’m pissed as all hell. Why can’t they help, why can’t they treat you with the respect, patience and understanding you deserve?

In this moment I’m heartbroken. Where are the answers we are so tirelessly trying to find?

In this moment the doctor tell us she thinks “Griffin has Asperger syndrome.” Asperger syndrome, my son has Asperger syndrome.

In this moment I feel judged and insecure. Being told you aren’t doing a good enough job as a parent is not something I ever thought I’d encounter.

In this moment I’m praying the caller ID doesn’t say “Chicago Public Schools,” but it does…

In this moment I’m choosing to just hug my husband and let this challenge bring us closer together. Making this choice is not always easy, but I know it’s worth it.

In this moment I realize our family is anything but typical, and things like making friends and going to school are not going to be done in a traditional way.

In this moment I need to mourn things not looking the way I thought they should, even though I know we are doing what is best for you.

In this moment I am thankful you can express yourself in your own unique, brilliant way.

In this moment I’m feeling tired and frustrated that you need me to repeat and repeat things a certain way. I feel guilty for feeling this way because I know it helps you and is part of who you are.

In this moment I’m smiling, hearing you share your passions and vast knowledge on topics ranging from video games to classical music, despite hearing about it for the millionth time and not always understanding just what it is you’re telling me.

In this moment I’m in awe watching you talk to people you just met. Seeing you ask a parent about their baby, making that mother or father feel so special, noticing when another child falls down and going over to them to see if they’re OK.

In this moment I feel so lucky that at the age of 11 you still want to hold my hand even after I’ve told you it’s OK to let go. You look at me with your big brown eyes and say, “But Mom, I love you, why wouldn’t I want to hold your hand?”

In this moment I’m believing, despite what I’m currently seeing, that your future is filled with lasting, loving, supportive friendships, amazing opportunities and experiences

In this moment I’m hearing you meltdown. The banging, screaming and cursing breaks my heart. I take a deep breath, and I hold you

In this moment I feel a pain that I pray I will never feel again. It drowns me in a coat of heavy despair.

In this moment I blame myself. I should have prepared you better. I could have said it this way… I should have remembered to bring this or that.

In this moment I’m trying to trust that I’m doing enough for you. It’s one of the hardest things to do.

In this moment I try to remember that even though you’re 11, sometimes the only way you can handle what is happening is to do what a 4-year-old might do, and that is to scream.

In this moment I will try — try to trust that whatever we need we will receive in the most perfect timing.

In this moment I am listening to you, really listening.

In this moment I know you are doing and will do amazing things.

In this moment I’m so grateful for it all — yes all of it — because I know every moment is a gift. A gift I sometimes would like to return, but one I know is leading to the next great moment.

In this moment I’m letting go of the fear, guilt, blame and loneliness.

In this moment I’m thankful for every single person who has taken the time to know you, ask about you, encourage us as a family and see the beauty of who you are.

In this moment I know you are exactly who you are supposed to be; I am exactly who I’m supposed to be, and that is enough.

In this moment I’m thanking God for trusting me and your dad with you. You, a brilliant beam of light sent from above to change me and anyone who is lucky enough to ever know and love you.

Missy is the proud mom of Griffin. She is also an actress, singer and writer. Missy started writing as a way to connect with other families on a similar path and to share with the rest of the world in hopes of creating compassion and understanding for those in the autism community. She also writes music inspired by her son and is working on a one woman show. You can read more about her and life with Griffin at the blog she writes called What Will This Day Bring? To connect to her Facebook community page please go to What Will This Day Bring?